CH3 AA
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You awaken once more with a dull pain in your leg, breathing in a weak musky odor. You open your eyes to see Medic beside you, still sound asleep. You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to just lie with him. You can't hear any of the morning ruckus (usually consisting of Pyro running around blasting his flamethrower, gleefully shouting at everyone to wake up, with the background noise of Soldier and Demoman trying to stop him), and decide that it must be Sunday: the allotted day of peace.
Medic groans, and you know that he's awake, but you don't want to let him go just yet. You pretend that you're asleep, and you feel Medic stiffen as he realizes that he's holding you, then relax when he realizes that you're "asleep". He kisses your head gently, then hugs you tighter. You choose then to let him know you're awake, and you pretend to yawn and stretch. He quickly releases you, jumping backwards.
"Mornin'," you mumble, still sleepy.
"Good morning, meine liebe," he smiles. 'He still doesn't know I was awake,' you think. "You don't know German, do you?" he asks, a look of concern fleeting over his usually-calm features. You shake your head, and a wave of relief seems to wash over him. "Care to come with me to get some breakfast und coffee?"
"Sure," you answer, smiling up at him. He gets out of bed and opens the door, holding it open for you. You mumble a thank you, and you both walk to the cafeteria. Coffee, you see, has already been prepared. You pour yourself a cup, then some for Medic. "How do you like it?"
You hear something drop as Medic jumps and turns to face you. "What?" he asks incredulously.
"You're coffee, how do you take your coffee?" you laugh.
"Oh, right… Black, please. Und thank you," he says, turning back to whatever's on the stovetop. "You like eggs, yes?"
"Of course," you say, picking up the steaming mugs and crossing the kitchen to where Medic is standing, flipping pancakes while keeping an eye on a skillet of scrambled eggs. You smile to yourself and wonder if anyone else has seen Medic acting so… Domestic. You silently place the mugs on the counter next to him, then sneak up behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle his back with the side of your face, giggling as you feel him stiffen. "Thank you, Medic. For everything." He nods and relaxes.
"Pancakes und eggs are ready. Would you mind getting the erdbeeren und sahne?"
"The what?"
"Entschuldigung, strawberries und whipped cream," he answers, taking the prepared food to the table.
"Oh, sure!" You open the refrigerator and rummage through it for a bit before finding them behind some of Demoman's scotch bottles. You grab them and take them to the table, stopping on the way to get the coffees. You sit in the chair opposite the doctor, setting his coffee in front of his plate. You smile at him, then take a bite of the fluffy eggs. "Where'd you learn to cook?" you ask, thoroughly pleased with his culinary skills.
"I was elected cook during the war," he answered, taking a swig of coffee. You and Medic talk and eat for about an hour, then wash the dishes. "Do, uh… Would you like to do something today? With me?"
"Maybe, what did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. I'm sure there's a movie theatre around here somewhere."
"Sure! And then maybe we can rent a couple of other movies. Just have a total lazy day. I think that one war movie is out… Dr. Strangelove. Want to go see that?"
"Anything you want to see," he answers, smiling at you.
"Yeah, then we can rent West Side Story and Psycho!" you exclaim excitedly. Medic chuckles and extends a hand to help you up.
"Let me ask Sniper if we can borrow his car for the day. In fact, tell you what: let's get ready, I'll find us a car, and we'll meet at the entrance in forty-five minutes. Deal?" You agree and go back to your quarters, trying to find something other than the company-issued combat uniform. In the bottom drawer, you find a knee-length skirt and a leather jacket. You throw them on with a plain green blouse and your combat boots. You don't bother with makeup, and just brush through your hair to get the knots out.
You grab your wallet and stuff it in your jacket pocket, then look at the clock. Five minutes 'til you and Medic had agreed to meet. You smile and run to the door, slowing to a cool strut just before you turn the corner. You stop when you see him, suddenly feeling under dressed. He is wearing a charcoal grey three piece suit and a fedora. He holds out his arm, and you loop your through it, walking with him to Sniper's custom-made Australian car. He opens the passenger door for you, then gets in the driver's seat. "He did not believe me when I told him I needed to borrow his car for a date," he tells you matter-of-factly.
"Who said it's a date?" you ask coyly, watching his expression out of the corner of your eye. You stifle a giggle as it goes from confused to shocked to hurt to sly in a matter of seconds.
"Well, even if it is not officially a date, we can make him think that it is," he says, grinning maniacally. He puts a hand on your knee, eyes darting between you and the road, checking for any kind of reaction. When you give none, he tries harder, trailing his fingers up your leg, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. Your eyes widen marginally, and he smirks. He moves his hand, only to bring it back, caressing the smooth, creamy skin of your upper leg. You squeak, and he chuckles, putting his hand back on the wheel. "Just testing your boundaries," he says nonchalantly.
The rest of the drive passes uneventfully, and when you get to the theatre, he buys both tickets, stating that he 'would not be a proper gentleman' if he had let you buy your own. "Candy?" he asks, pointing to the concession stand behind him. You give him a look, then buy your own candy, and a package of licorice for him.
"You like licorice, ja?" you ask in your best imitation of the man standing before you. He smiles and nods.
"Ja, meine blume." You giggle and grab his hand, pulling him into the theatre. He finds seats, and you watch the movie, returning his playful antics, resting a hand on his thigh, walking your fingers slowly up the material of his suit. You laugh when he gasps quietly, but then he growls from deep in his throat, and you turn to him. His eyes glint behind his glasses, but it is not anger that you see. It is a raw emotion that you cannot identify, and you don't have time to try to figure it out. His mouth presses against yours, eagerly, hungrily. He bites your lip, then kisses it again, moving from your mouth to your jawline, then softly nibbling at your ear.
"Du müssen meine Liebe, mein Engel, lernen, dass, wenn du mit dem Feuer spielen, du verbrannt erhalten, " he whispers to you, his voice deep and throaty. You shiver, turning further in your seat to recapture his mouth, biting his lip. "Not here," he says, his glasses askew on his face, a dazed smile prevalent on his visage, "Ich liebe dich." He kisses your forehead, shoving his glasses back into place, and turns back to the movie, putting one arm around your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing circles into your back.
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A/N: The German here translates roughly as follows:
Meine liebe: My love
Erdbeeren und sahne: Strawberries and whipped cream
Entschuldigung: Sorry
Ja, meine blume: Yes, my flower
Du müssen meine Liebe, mein Engel, lernen, dass, wenn du mit dem Feuer spielen, du verbrannt erhalten: You must, my love, my angel, learn that when you play with fire, you will get burned.
Ich liebe dich: I love you